Waiting for Halloween
by Dem0nLight
Summary: There once was a town full of Halloween monsters. Once a year, they have the opportunity to enter the human world and terrify all they see. But what happens when they're off duty?
1. Origin

_A/N: On Halloween last year, I watched Nightmare before Christmas for the first time (Netflix came through for once). I loved the movie so much that I've decided to write out this mini-story, just for fun. I figured that since October is beginning, I'd publish out the story as a Halloween treat. Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

><p>Origin<p>

Jack Hallow walked down the street, his hood pulled up over his mess of black hair, protecting his ears from the cold. He would be in for it once he got home: another supposed to be harmless prank had backfired. It had taken some quick intervention to prevent the unfortunate victim from calling the Police.

Jack sighed, watching his breath form into a white cloud and drift away. Halloween was hardly a week away, and Jack couldn't help himself; he enjoyed the holiday so much, it should be criminal. October was the one time of year that Jack couldn't resist getting a shriek out of his friends and neighbors. No one would ever be exempt from his "mischief of the tenth month".

On any other day, the skinny young man was next to harmless-except when his friends were threatened-but the very thought of Halloween gave Jack a devilish gleam in his eye that meant someone would get a shock.

Today, however, he was the only one getting a shock: something jabbed him in the side and he froze on the spot, directly in front of an alleyway.

"Don't move," a rough voice breathed behind him. "Step into the alley, and I won't hurt you."

"What do you want?" Jack asked, remaining exactly where he was in a show of stubborn independence. Whomever was behind him chuckled softly.

"What do I want? Oh just the usual: your money, your jacket, everything you own."

"Who are you?"

"You wouldn't know me. Maybe I'm crazy, or a fanatic." He paused. "Or maybe I'm just bored."

Jack heart was racing. He was in serious trouble, and the wrong move could get him mugged or worse. There were three options: run, fight, or cooperate. All three held their risks, and he was unsure which path he should take. A sharp prod hastened his decision and he slid into the alley, pulling off his jacket, shivering as the wind picked up, running over his unprotected skin. The thief took the fabric, checking the pockets for loose change. Jack studied the man, intent on memorizing his face so he could report him later: he was a squat man, hardly five feet tall, with overlong, greasy hair and squinty eyes. The most distinctive feature was a long burn scar across both his hands and arms.

"Get on outta here," the greasy man ordered, leveling his knife again. Jack scowled, but turned his back, taking a single step forward.

He got no farther: a sudden pain hit him from behind, and Jack felt frozen steel slide between his ribs. He gasped, his legs giving way under him. He did not hit the concrete, but rather fell into the arms of the thief, who began to drag him deeper into the alley.

"Never leave a witness behind," his killer whispered to himself. "That's what I always say."

Jack could feel his life slipping away as he bled out, his heart slowing. He barely felt a thing as the shorter man hoisted him into the garbage dumpster. A second later, a fountain of reeking gasoline was poured into the trash, followed by a lit match. The flames were hot, scorching his flesh, but Jack could not make a sound, suffocated by smoke. Then he felt nothing.

Hours later, the police would find the smoking dumpster and peer inside. When they did, there wasn't much left of poor Jack, just a grinning, blackened skeleton.

*.*

Marcus Skellington sat in the dead grass of the Halloween graveyard, his concentration wholly focused on piecing together stray bones he'd found. Marcus was old for a skeleton, his bones more brittle than they used to be and a cautionary slowness to his every move born of too many breaks and fractures over the decades. The pumpkins in his patch were growing better than usual this year, giving the bone man more time to himself than before. In these periods of relaxation, Marcus found himself wishing that he had made more of an effort to be friendly with the other creatures of Halloween town, because the most prominent feeling these days was one of profound loneliness; Marcus was the only skeleton still undead in town, most of the others facing their second deaths when he was still young.

"You're turning into a sentimental old fool, Marc," he said aloud, eyeing his bone creation on the ground; he had arranged the bones into another skeleton, this one the size of a child. The leg and arm bones were a little disproportionate, but other than that, it was perfectly joined. Marcus sighed and moved to pick up the bones, but hesitated as he noticed something. After a long moment frozen in place, it happened again: the bones quivered.

Looking up, Marcus saw a small golden sphere drifting through the still air, under the dim light of the new moon. Reverently, the old skeleton stepped back and watched the orb hover over the small bones. Then the light descended so that it glowed faintly inside the small rib cage and then faded away.

A light gasp was heard in the still night as the new arrival sat up, the pale bones moving in perfect synchronization. Marcus watched, silently in awe of what he had just witnessed. The young skeleton stared up at the black sky, shivering as the wind picked up. Marcus slowly took off his long black cloak and draped it around the small bony shoulders. The youngster whipped around in shock, his sockets wide.

"It's alright, son," Marcus murmured. "You're safe here. I'll look after you. Do you have a name?"

The small figure was wracked by another shudder as he answered in a small voice.

"Yes. I'm Jack."


	2. First Halloween

Marcus had been expecting a handful with the new young skeleton. To his surprise, Jack was well-mannered and calmly obedient. Jack also had a near-perfect memory, something Marcus had learned when Jack had found his own way back to the pumpkin patch after being lost in the woods for nearly six hours.

If Jack had been human, his immaculate behavior and impeccable politeness would have been all a parent could have wanted. But Jack was undead now: after the first few days, Marcus began to get concerned for his newly adopted son: Jack appeared to have no sense of mischief at all, and that was an important characteristic in young monsters. Unfortunately, the old skeleton had no idea how to help Jack develop his prankster side; he'd never been a father before.

One evening, Marcus was taking the ripe pumpkins into town for carving, Jack sitting in the wagon, ready to help. Jack had never been to town before—it was only his first week in the undead world after all—and his eye sockets were wide with awe. Marcus couldn't stop himself from chuckling. When the pair entered the town center, Marcus began unloading the large pumpkins, and Jack spun in circles, trying to take everything in.

"If you keep turning like that, you'll dislocate an ankle," Marcus laughed. Jack stopped, but seemed unable to wipe his skull clean of his amazement. By the time Marcus was done unloading, Jack had set his sights on the clock tower.

"What's that countdown for?" the youngster asked as they prepared to leave.

"The days left until Halloween," Marcus replied, looking up himself to see that there were less than two days now. Jack cocked his head at a dangerous angle, his brow furrowed.

"Halloween..." he repeated slowly, as if trying the word out to see how it sounded. Marcus nodded, watching the child carefully. Most new arrivals only had the faintest memories of their human lives, enough to give them a sense of identity. Few even remembered Halloween, the most important day of the year. Jack continued to ponder the word, repeating it softly to himself.

"It sounds big...important..." the young skeleton muttered, more to himself than his father.

"It is," Marcus assured him. "It's the most important day, because-"

"Because all the monsters come out to scare people," Jack finished. Marcus blinked once before a large smile broke out across his skull.

"That's exactly right," he said, patting Jack on the shoulder. "When we go to the human world, it is our job to frighten the humans, to make them jump. The rest of the year is preparation for Halloween."

Jack nodded, but did not say another word for the whole rest of the trip home, silent as he bumped around in the wagon. As they reached Marcus' slanted shack outside the cemetery, Jack suddenly asked, "What do I do at Halloween?"

"It's your first," Marcus replied, groaning as his old joints ached for a moment. "You won't be going to the world above."

"But what do I _do_?"

"You watch the adults through the well in town square. Observe."

Jack was visibly disappointed.

"Don't worry about it," Marcus comforted him, patting his son on the back. "In a few years, you'll be a trick-or-treater, and then you get to travel to the human world. Anyway, Halloween isn't for everyone. I'm not going."

"Why not?"

Jack was now more curious than upset, his mood shifting in the briefest of moments, now watching the older skeleton as he opened the ancient, creaky door. Marcus decided to tell him; it wasn't exactly a secret.

"I was never very scary," he admitted. "Didn't get the results from the humans that I was supposed to. So I look after the young ones with Fink—that's Dr. Finkelstein to you."

Jack nodded seriously, looking lost in thought. Marcus grinned at the serious expression on his face; it was so adult-like that Marcus was certain that his soul was much older than his young bones might suggest.

"When is Halloween?" Jack asked as Marcus lit a candelabra. The old skeleton didn't respond right away, taking his time lighting all the candles in the tiny shack. When the warped walls, crooked table, and smoky fireplace were illuminated by flickering flames, Marcus lowered himself into one of the rickety old chairs, looked his son in the eye sockets, and answered softly.

"Two nights from now."

* * *

><p>The half-moon was not bright enough to illuminate the already dim trail to Halloween town. It was only Marcus' experience of traversing this tricky trail that led the pair of skeletons through the twisted iron gates that closed the town from the rest of the world. Jack clung to his father's arm as he walked, squinting into the dark as they walked into the town square.<p>

It was unusually busy tonight: the adult monsters, vampires, zombies, witches and other ghouls had gathered by the fountain, preparing to leave. Those with children were giving them last-minute goodbyes and reminders. Jack hesitated uncertainly, his small bony fingers gripping Marcus' radius ever tighter. Marcus smiled a little and rested his free hand on Jack's skull to reassure him.

The clock struck seven. The monsters began to leave the square through the gate, marching their way to the graveyard. When the gate crashed shut behind the hangman's tree, there were only a handful of monsters still in the square: a small group of children, Marcus, Jack, and the crippled Dr. Finkelstein, all clustered around the fountain.

"Well, Marc," the mad scientist hailed the skeleton, "you're late. Those creaking knees slowing you down?"

"My patella are fine, Fink," Marcus replied, his grin stretching even farther across his face. "It was this little bone pile who slowed me down."

Jack looked up at his father, visibly surprised at being called a "bone pile", but when Marcus winked at him, he seemed to understand that it wasn't an insult and smiled too.

"Ah, so you were gifted with a charge of your own this year," the doctor remarked, studying the young skeleton as he wheeled forward. "About time. What's your name, young one?"

"Jack," the young skeleton replied, releasing Marcus' arm and extending his hand in a moment of daring. "Jack Skellington. It's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor."

"The pleasure is all mine," Dr. Finkelstein replied confidently, taking the handshake. Marcus shooed Jack away, insisting he meet some of the other creatures his age. When the child hesitantly began introducing himself to his peers, the mad scientist looked up at Marcus expectantly.

"Impeccable manners," he commented, inclining his oversized head towards Jack. "Did you teach him that."

"Not at all," Marcus assured his friend. "He just came that way."

"Lucky."

"Now Fink—"

"Doctor! Mr Skellington! It's starting!"

The excited shout drew the two adults forward, so that they too could peer into the well. They all watched as the water finally cleared of all mist, displaying the watery image of a crypt in the human world. All at once, the crypt burst open and a werewolf bounded out, howling at the partial moon in the sky. More and more creatures came soaring out into the dusk of the human realm—witches on brooms, vampires fluttering alongside clouds of bats, zombies shuffling forward, ghosts moaning—and soon the image in the water shifted to the front of the graveyard, where the monsters all exited the graveyard and into the lamplit streets, where the first of the human trick-or-treaters were emerging from their homes.

Marcus glanced down at Jack occasionally as the night went on: his eye sockets were constantly wide as he took it all in, sometimes jumping when a monster made a particularly good scare. Even as the moon climbed higher and higher, Jack's gave was riveted on the scenes the water revealed. When the moon reached its lowest point, the water suddenly went blank and Jack blinked a few times in surprise.

"What happened?" he asked Marcus, bewildered. Before the old skeleton could explain, another young monster spoke for him—a two-faced boy by the name of Ben.

"Halloween's over," Ben said. "All the grown-ups are coming back to town. Then we sing the town song."

"What's the town song?" Jack asked eagerly. Ben pointed out of the town square, towards the twisted gate.

"Just listen, and you'll hear it."

All the children fell silent, clearly straining their ears. Marcus smiled to himself. It was always the same with the young ones. Then, the faintest sound of music floated over the hill, carried from the graveyard.

_Boys and girls of every age, _

_wouldn't you like to see something strange?_

_Come with us and you will see,_

_this, our town of Halloween._

Jack's eye sockets couldn't have gotten any larger. As the next verse was sung, several of the other children joined in, their voices mixing with the rest of the town's.

_This is Halloween! This is Halloween!_

_Pumpkins scream in the dead of night!_

_This is Halloween! Everybody make a scene!_

_Trick or Treat, till the neighbors gonna die of fright!_

_It's our town, _

_everybody scream!_

_In our town of Halloween!_

Marcus stepped forward and placed his hand on his son's shoulder. Jack started a little at the contact before he realized who it was.

"So?" Marcus asked. "What do you think?"

It took Jack a minute to respond, so enthralled was he by the music.

"I think it's amazing," he said, his voice awed.


	3. Late

The candles flickered inside the tiny shack as the last strings of light from the jack-o-lantern sun faded into hue of deep indigo. Marcus turned the pages of his book, pausing every so often to make a note in the journal resting on the rickety table beside his chair. One of the witches had "borrowed" a book from a human's personal library on Halloween and had given it to him as a thank-you gift for keeping an eye on her daughter. Not one to pass up on a new piece of literature, the old skeleton had set about reading it the moment he and Jack had finished their light supper.

His new novel was a thick, leather-bound volume, a literary collection of Transcendentalist essays. When Jack had seen the size of the book, he'd swiftly asked if he could go out past the pumpkin patch to explore the graveyard. Marcus had allowed it, but only if he were back in the house by moonrise.

As Marcus turned the page in his notebook, he heard something drag across the solitary window in the shack. He paused for a moment, but quickly resumed his reading. Such sounds were not a rare occurrence; many a teenager had come to his home in an attempt to frighten the old bone man living alone outside town. He heard the sound again—a faint squealing as something scraped over warped glass. Once again he ignored it.

Fifteen minutes passed in silence. Marcus glanced up at his clock to check the time, and saw it was nearly eight. Jack should have been home by now.

Getting to his feet, groaning as his old knees protested, the skeleton opened his creaky door and stepped into the cool November evening. The sky was clear, and the first curve of the moon was visible as it slowly ascended the sky, half-hidden behind Spiral Hill. Marcus looked out towards the graveyard, expecting to see Jack rushing home. The horizon was empty of anything that did not belong to the landscape.

For the first time, Marcus felt a twinge of worry. Jack wasn't the type to lose track of time. Had something happened to him?

Marcus walked up the hill that separated his home from a small patch of woods. The long shadows of the trees blocked the moonlight. a chilly breeze swept through the trees.

Marcus froze. For a moment, he had thought he saw a shadow flicker across the ground, one that didn't belong to the usual landscape. A twig broke behind him. The old skeleton had to resist the urge to whip around and look—mostly because his creaky spine might be thrown out of joint, but partially because he still thought this was some elaborate setup from one of the town's teens, something he could not condone.

But if this was a prank, then Jack might be a hostage, as much as a victim as his father. The worry from before had grown, threatening to swallow Marcus whole. But still, he walked on.

He reached the edge of the woods without incident. He could see the graveyard—its tall stone mausoleums, various headstones, and crypts. His gaze scanned the area, searching for the familiar gleam of moonlight on Jack's bones, but the only shine came from the marble graves. A branch creaked ominously from the woods at his back. Marcus waited for some scare attempt, steeling his nerve. Nothing. The skeleton released a sigh of relief and a little exasperation.

Suddenly, something grabbed him from behind, two hands seizing his shirt along the sides of his ribcage. Marcus yelped involuntarily and heard someone start laughing in a familiar voice.

"Jack Skellington!" Marcus hollered, turning to face his son who had collapsed to the ground, howling with mirth. "If I had a heart, it would've stopped beating! What in the name of the Grim Reaper were you thinking?!"

Jack could not respond: he was laughing too hard. When he finally recovered from his hilarity, the young skeleton inhaled deeply, standing on shaky legs. Marcus shook his head.

"I'm glad you find my worry so amusing," he remarked dryly. "I was expecting you home at moonrise. _Explain_."

"I'm sorry," Jack muttered, hanging his head. "I've wanted to try a little trick for next Halloween."

"Jack, it's _November_," Marcus sighed, exasperated. "Not even the mayor is thinking of next year right now."

"Well maybe he should," Jack replied, unusually defiant. Marcus watched his son, his skull wiped of any emotion, until the boy bowed his head in a repentant manner. He then walked past his son, mounting the hill. he heard footsteps behind him and knew Jack was following.

"Are you upset with me?" his son's timid voice asked. Marcus didn't say a word until they were back home, he in his reading chair, Jack on a stool before him.

"Jack," he said, not unkindly. "I am very upset that you broke your promise to me that you would be home at moonrise." He paused, allowing Jack to feel the shame that showed clearly in his expression for a moment. "However," he added, "I am very impressed with your prank."

"Really?" Jack asked, raising his head, eye sockets wide. Marcus nodded.

"Yes, really. I'm not easy to scare. With a little practice, you could be good enough to scare anyone in town. Oh, the humans won't stand a chance!"

Jack watched in awe as his father began to laugh, a delighted sound that could have belonged to an excited child. Then he joined in. The sound of father and son, laughing together, echoed through their small home, all worry and frustration gone.


End file.
